Stories of the Nameless
by Mr B.Hunt
Summary: Short tales of the many nameless or minor characters within the Dark Souls universe, head cannons and personal takes on the lore within!
1. Hal, Knight of Heide

Once, in a very distant time and place, there was an ancient kingdom turned to ruins. Oceans from bellow tore away and devoured stone and brick, pillars of white marble and whole buildings. Now only a pair of buildings remained the great Blue Cathedral, home of the Blue Sentinels, and the Tower of Flame, home of a Dragonrider as of recently. This once beautiful kingdom, was now the ruins of Heide, the home of only a few sane people. Though there were those who bordered on insanity, one such person was one of the knights of Heide. The order were once famous in their time, now they are forgotten and Hollow.

Knight Hal sat against a stone pillar, looking out over the endless sea and at the distant sun. His chainmail was rusted and falling apart, his pauldrons were dull and dented, his leggings reduced to nothing more than a pair of greaves and half a knee guard. Hal's helmet was a rarity among his Hollowed brethren, it was one of the few that was reinforced by iron and used by an ancient force of elite knights that rode mounts into battle, but like Heide they were forgotten. Hal absently scratched at the rust on his sword, a battered thing that had no hilt and only half of a blade, by some miracle it kept its blessing of the sun god and sparked with lightning.

The Heide Knight looked to his right and saw another of his order, though this one had a bucket-like helmet full of arrows, clearly Hollow. Hal turned to left and saw a trio of massive sentinels in green armour, they turned up out of nowhere, possibly a decade ago or even a week, Hal couldn't remember. He did know that they were quite slow, if the countless number of undead that passed through these ruins were anything to go by. Hal could remember one in particular, a young girl, who sat next to him for a day and talked to him, Hal would've responded but his voice was long gone.

"Hey! Look over here!" A voice called out, Hal internally sighed and hoped it was one of the 'nice' ones. The knight heard two pairs of footsteps and turned his head to stare at their owners, one wore hard leather armour and the other a mixture of metal. Hal continued to stare before turning back to the sun, still listening to anything besides the lapping of waves.

"What? It's just another one of these dumb knights." The knight said with a deep voice, the other scoffed.

"Look at the helmet!" The first said excitedly. "It's a rare find!" Hal grew slightly angry, but nervous, he wasn't looking for a fight. He heard footsteps approaching and turned to the two Undead again, this time he raised his sword slightly.

"I say we leave him alone." The deep voiced knight said and took a step away, the other one in leathers shook his head.

"The thing is just a Hollow, can't do anything to us!" The warrior stated and walked up to Hal, reaching out for his helmet. Hal let out a low droning growl and moved to stand, his armour screaming and falling apart. He stood up straight and glared down at the warrior, who was slowly stepping back.

"Easy now." The knight said softly and raised his hands, the warrior did the same but a bit shakily. Hal continued to glare at them before turning back to the sun, returning his broken sword to its equally ruined scabbard. The two Undead exchanged glances and turned away from the knight. "I say we leave." The knight stated.

"No! We can take him!" The warrior hissed and pulled an axe from his belt. "Just need to overpower him!" The warrior grinned and turned to the Heide Knight, but the knight stopped him.

"You'll have to do it alone then." The knight grunted and walked away, the warrior scoffed.

"Fine, I will." The warrior turned and swung his axe at the Heide Knight, who grunted and quickly unsheathed his sword. Hal spun on his heel and bashed the warrior in the face with his sword's pummel, when the man stumbled back Hal grabbed his shoulder and slammed his sword through his chest. The knight heard the gasp of the warrior, but didn't help the man, instead he watched him fall to his knees then onto his side.

"Serves you right." The knight murmured and left Hal alone, walking back towards a large doorway. Hal looked at his blade and sheathed it again, slowly lowering himself to a seating position again to stare out at the sun. Hal reached into his dirty cloak and pulled a simple ring from within, he examined it and tried to remember where it came from. Home, yes, home. Hal smiled under his iron helmet as the faint memory of a family returned to him, the faces of a little girl and his loving wife. They had brown hair... or blond, white perhaps? Were they young when he left? Where... where did he live? What is this place? Who was he? What... who... kill... yes, yes that's it... kill...

* * *

Ser Xavier of Astora came back to the ruins of Heide after a few hours, to scavenge anything from his fallen 'friend'. When he turned the corner and saw the Heide Knight, he knew something wasn't right. The knight sat in a more hunched over posture and had its sword already in its hand. Xavier pulled his claymore from his back and gripped it with two hands, taking a step towards the knight. The Heide Knight jerked its head up and groaned, standing up and stumbling towards the man, his sword hanging limply from his hand.

"Hah!" Xavier grunted and swung his claymore, cleaving into the knight's chest, cutting through the rusted chainmail like butter. The Heide Knight hissed and raised his sword and slashed downwards, Xavier released his sword and jumped back to avoid the ruined blade, but when it hit the stone ground it shattered. The knight of Astora watched the Heide Knight step forward and raise his hilt again to strike, but Xavier smacked the attack aside and grabbed the claymore still in the knight's chest. Xavier pulled it out then slashed the Heide Knight's chest again, causing the Hollow to fall to his knees with a moan.

"I'm truely sorry." Xavier apologised as he raised his claymore to strike the knight down, he hesitated as the Heide Knight turned his head once more to look at the sun. But he knew it was cruel to leave a man to slowly die, so he cut down the knight and listened to him groan and then land against the marble ground. Ser Xavier watched the Heide Knight dissolve into dust, leaving two things behind. A metal ring with a strange flower shape on it and the knight's iron helmet, Xavier took the helmet and put it in his knapsack then picked up the ring. He walked over to the railing and looked out over the endless ocean, then dropped the ring into it.

Ser Xavier continued his journey through Heide, killing more Hollowed Heide Knights and the ancient sentinels. He killed the Dragonslayer and Dragonrider, then joined the Blue Sentinels. Remaining in the ruins for many years, continuously helping those being attacked by Dark Spirits. Never forgetting the Heide Knight and that strange ring, not knowing the secrets it held.


	2. Loghan, Knight of Lothric

In a castle high above the clouds, home of the twin princes who refuse to bow to the will of the gods, a lone knight remained knelt before a statue in a large, circular courtyard. His armour, covered in scratches, still shines against the fires that dot the courtyard. His tattered cape and tabard, once coloured a vibrant red now only a dull crimson. The large sword that he held in front of his bowed head, stained red by the recent slaughter. The knight's visor was raised, revealing a sunken and Hollowed face. This is Loghan, a proud knight of Lothric, reduced to nothing but a lowly defender for his princes.

Loghan wasn't completely Hollow, he still remembered the day he left home, the day he joined the knights of Lothric, the day when he felt the Darksign. His fellow knights hadn't gotten theirs on that day, so they threw him from the bridge linking the archives and the rest of the castle. Loghan knew on that day, they would be the next. He was right, he saw a number of recently branded knights roaming the battlements, their eyes downcast when he walked past.

Him and the Lothric soldiers and knights still followed their princes, even when under the curse of the Darksign. But then the scholars did something, in that archive they call home, causing the platoons of Winged Knights to attack and lash out. They rampaged through the many battlements and slaughtered anyone who stood against them, on that day, a lot of people Hollowed. But not Loghan he remained sane, since then however, his mind has been repeatedly chipped away by countless deaths. Now, the sounds of yet another party of Undead approach, the Lothric Knight stood up and pulled his greatsword from the cobblestone ground and turned to the three arrivals.

"Whoa, check out that sword." The middle one said, his lowly knight armour covered in blood. In his hands he held a longsword and an ordinary shield.

"Aye, I wouldn' mind a sword like that." The leftmost one said, his accent almost as harsh as his spiked armour, his massive spiked mace dripping with dark blood. The last didn't speak, her hooded robes covering her eyes, but not her grin. Loghan heaved his greatsword onto his shoulder and stomped towards the trio of Undead, his dull eyes fulled with rage.

* * *

Walter grunted, pulling his body towards the ladder his party descended from. His legs were cut off at the knee, his flask of trusty estus was shattered and he had lost his family sword. He heard heavy footsteps behind him and panicked, he started to scramble across the cobblestone. Suddenly he was dragged back and flipped onto his back, Walter raised a hand to defend himself but the Lothric Knight ignored it and raised his ultra greatsword. Walter let out a yell as the blade slammed down, then fell silent.

Loghan raised his sword again and heaved his greatsword onto his shoulder again, he felt something dripping down his chest and felt for the source. A large dent near his ribs, caused by that spiked mace. Loghan turned his head and glared at the mangled body that was thrown in one of the bonfires nearby, his gaze left the spiked body and landed on the robed one, which sat against the statue he once prayed next to. She was a pain, her sorcery pierced Loghan's armour and left savage burns.

"Hail, Ser Knight!" A voice called out and Loghan turned around, trying to find the madman calling out. "Up here!" The voice called and Loghan looked up at the platform near the large arch leading to the Cathedral of Blue, the man in question wore Lothric Knight armour, he was one of the sane. Loghan raised a hand and waved to the knight who waved back. "I've come down from the wall to report that an Unkindled is in the area, be on the lookout!" The Lothric Knight shouted then disappeared over the edge.

Loghan was sure he knew that man, his voice sounded familiar, but alas his memory was all but gone. He knew that the fabled 'Unkindled Ones' were dangerous, he needed reinforcements. But Loghan sighed, nobody would help him, they were all gone. Then he spotted something, on the body of the lowly knight, a hovering white light. The Lothric Knight walked over and reached into the orb, it disappeared and revealed a clump of ember. Loghan quickly crushed the ember and sighed shakily, he had heard that these embers gave Undead power, he needed it. Suddenly a stinging pain hit him, Loghan raised a hand and saw flaming dancing at his fingertips.

Then the pain grew, the flames started to run up his arm. Loghan stumbled back and into the statue's base, frantically waving his arm to get rid of the fire. The flames covered his body and he tried to scream out, but no sound came. A final thought fluttered into his mind, the thought of regret. Embers could only be harnessed by an Ashen One, but he was just a Hollow, a normal Undead. Loghan slid down the stone base and released his sword from his iron grip, he slowly moved his body into a more comfortable position to rest, before the ember torched his insides and hollowed the armour out. At least he wouldn't have to die anymore, he could be at peace. Unfortunately, Loghan wouldn't be at peace, for the cycle of fire would not cease, for the Unkindled Ash would continue to rise to restart it.

* * *

Loghan shot up in his bed, his body covered in sweat. He felt his arms and face, gasping as he tried to recall the nightmare. Loghan frowned as he felt something on his arm, he looked and his eyes widened. The Darksign. Loghan got out of bed and grabbed his armour, which was still shining from the polishing from yesterday. He slipped into it and quickly left the barracks, bumping into another Lothric Knight. The man grunted and glared at him.

"Ser Loghan? What are you doing up so early?" Ser Louis asked with a gruff voice, then he caught the fear in Loghan's eyes. "Dear gods... you... you have the brand!" He declared in fear as he backed away, pulling a sword from his hip. Loghan shook his head and waved his hands, though it was in vain.

"Please, I-I can explain!" Loghan tried to say but Louis didn't acknowledge his words, instead he shouted out.

"We got an Undead!" A number of Lothric Knights suddenly rushed Loghan and roughly pulled him towards the Archive bridge, ignoring his pleas and shouting. They walked past the armour of the legendary dragonslayer and stood at the side of the bridge, lifting Loghan up over their heads.

"Wait! Wait! Please, my sword!" Loghan screamed out and the knights hesitated, then Louis spoke up.

"We'll send it down, after you." With that the knights tossed Loghan over the edge, the screams of the knight echoing in their ears. The Lothric Knights slowly went back to their barracks, except for one. The knight glanced around then unclipped his gauntlet, looking at his own brand that taunted him with the same fate as Loghan, footsteps on his left caused him to quickly pull his gauntlet on. He turned and stared at the other knight, who stared back.

"Something the matter, Ser Warwick?" The knight asked and Warwick shook his head.

"No, no. Just thinking about the future."


	3. Alfred, Knight of the Tower

The Boletarian Palace, home to the humble but old King Allant. His rule was one of both peace for his own and aggression to those who stood against his kingdom. He led a long rule, protecting his own, that ended up granting the kingdom many heroes, though three stood out. Metas, Knight of the Lance, wielder of a sword that outmatched lances in length. Longbow Oolan, with her skills and legions of defenders she could strike at the enemy while never being put in danger. Last was Alfred, Knight of the Tower, whose shield was the heaviest in Boletaria and could stop almost any attack.

Alfred laughed heartily as he watched a few soldiers trying to lift his shield and failing horribly, their faces red with the effort. Finally they released the shield and stumbled back into the crowd of laughing soldiers and knights, Alfred stood and walked over, making the other men shush each other. He turned and looked around at the crowd of faces and grinned.

"What's the matter, boys?" Alfred asked and pulled the Tower Shield, as he and the soldiers called it, off the wooden floor with ease. "It's as easy as that!" The barracks erupted into laughter as the three knights who tried to lift the shield loudly swore at him. Then the doors slammed open, silencing the noise, standing in the bright sunlight was Metas. The man was know among the men for his longsword, granting him the nickname of 'Penetrator', a name that caused him to dismbo

"Alfred, the King wants to see us." Metas stated in a slight accent, as Lord Rydell's son it was to be expected. Alfred grunted and hefted his shield onto his back and walked towards his fellow knight.

"Better not keep him waiting." Alfred said and followed Metas through the palace grounds, passing a few guards and servants. He admired his armour, a heavy set of Bushwood. It was one of only three sets, it was given to him and the Twin Fangs by the Boletarian Royal Family. Personally he didn't know either of the twins, he just knew that they were fierce fighters and were the King's most powerful warriors. Alfred and Metas walked up the flight of stairs to the King's throne room, walking across the long bridge leading to the elevator that led to Old King Allant. They saw Oolan waiting by said elevator, her arms crossed and her eyes locked on the pair.

"Took you long enough, Biorr and Vallarfax are already with the King." Her voice was surprisingly soft, but it still commanded respect. "They left already though, since you two took so long." Metas nodded and Alfred laughed.

"Aye, but I doubt any of us expected to be called by the King today, we were on our leave." Alfred commented as the trio entered the elevator. Alfred hummed to himself as the contraption rose, though letting out a slight creak under the weight of his shield. The elevator stopped and the three heroes quickly walked into the throne room, spotting the old King in his white tunic on his marble throne. He smiled and stood, spreading his arms in a welcoming manner. Causing the sheathed sword at his side to glint in the sunlight that pierced though the large windows, it was the fabled sword Soulbrandt. Some rumours would say that it had suddenly appeared at his side after he brought the Soul Arts to Boletaria and had never left the old King's side.

"Ah, my faithful knights, thank you for coming so quickly." He said in a wise voice, the three heroes knelt before the King causing him to laugh. "Rise, you need not kneel for me." The three rose and Metas spoke first.

"What is important enough that the entire round table would be called here?" He asked bluntly, causing Oolan to smack him over the head and Alfred to laugh. King Allant chuckled and walked over to the far window, overlooking his kingdom.

"You all know of the Soul Arts, yes?" He spoke in a different tone now, more secretive. Alfred and Metas nodded immediately, due to them using it to their advantage in battle, Oolan nodded a second after. King Allant turned his head and stared at them. "I have discovered something, something that gives power to the one who controls it. I have discovered a new form of the arts, tonight, I intend to go and retrieve this power. However, I wish to give it to you as well." The King's words caused the three to recoil in surprise, Alfred shook off the surprise first.

"Y-your Highness, I think I speak for my companions in this matter, but what power do you speak of?" Alfred said quickly, the Old King turned back to his view and sighed.

"An unfathomable amount of pure Soul power, one that would change the world itself." King Allant said, Oolan looked shocked and stepped back.

"This power, it doesn't seem right!" She yelled, causing Metas and Alfred to stare at her. "He speaks of a power that could change the world, for the better? For the worse? I say, on behalf of your kingdom, that you leave it." Her words echoed in the hall, the old King slowly turned his head.

"I knew you would not agree, that is why I chose you to be on the round table." Allant said calmly as he fully turned around, glaring with an immense hatred at the archer. "That is why I took that power before this meeting." His voice was no longer normal, it sounded deeper and fulled with venom. "I offer this again, take the power I give willingly or I will force you to take it." Oolan and Alfred backed away, but Metas looked like he was thinking over the choice.

"Would... would I get revenge on those twins?" He asked without emotion, his eyes meeting the King's. Old King Allant smiled with amusement.

"Yes." Metas stood and walked towards the man, turning to look back at Alfred and Oolan.

"Alfred, my friend, come with me. We have the chance to get even more respect from the kingdom, you've always wanted that." Alfred felt something behind those words, like a pull. He hesitated but a strange feeling overcame him before he could answer.

"Yes." Alfred heard his voice behind him and turned, gasping as he saw his own self grinning mercilessly. He watched as his doppelganger walked towards Metas and Allant, now joining them to glare at Oolan. The archer stared at her former allies in disgust.

"You... traitors!" She spat and turned to sprint away, a massive force knocked Alfred over so he lost track of her. When he stood up, he saw the King with Soulbrandt through her back. Alfred screamed and ran at the False King and pulled his fist back, but it only passed through him. Alfred could only watch helplessly as Oolan's eyes fluttered then shut, her body flashing a barely visible white. The False King pushed the corpse off his blade and turned towards the bodies of Metas and Alfred, pointing at them and causing them to collapse.

"Now, I command you, spirits of these faithful knights, to guard me. Protect me from those who would try and kill my form, go." The False King barked and Alfred saw his friends' faces only for a second before he felt his head snap towards the elevator and his body walk towards it. "Now, to make these bodies into something better." Alfred heard Allant say behind his back before the doors shut and he was forced into the position of guard dog with his formerly living friends.

* * *

The Tower Knight, standing high above any mortal man, glared at the foggy doorway that lay below him. His shield by his side and his lance in hand, he was unstoppable. Suddenly the door was disturbed by a tiny figure, a man in armour. The Tower Knight stomped forwards and slammed his shield down and swung his lance to his side, behind him he heard chuckling. If he wanted to turn he couldn't, but that wasn't what he wanted to do, he wanted to crush this insect. The Tower Knight stepped forwards and smashed his shield down, unaware he wasn't going to be the one who squished this insect.

Alfred felt something jerk in his form, he smiled in his mind, the only place he controlled. His physical form was destroyed, free from the control of the False King. Then his eyes snapped to someone walking towards him and his friends, finally he would be free. Metas and Alfred's bodies rushed the poor man, who managed to parry the long blade of Metas and dodge the scrapping spear of Alfred. Then the man stabbed Metas in the gut and shoved him to the ground, the red form of his friend tried to rise but dissolved into dust. Alfred smiled wider in his mind as the man ran past his body and tackled Oolan, striking her in the face before stabbing her.

Finally, the man rose and turned to Alfred, whose body shuffled towards him with his shield raised. The man started to walk around Alfred, causing his body to follow and thrust behind the man. The man took the chance to backstab Alfred and kick him over, trapping the body. The man stood over Alfred and observed as his body jerked from under his shield, taking in the similarities of another knight with a massive shield.

Then he slashed down and ended the forced duty that Alfred was bound to, he would of laughed at the notion of freedom, but darkness overcame him.


	4. Burnt Ivory King

Pain. Unbearable, burning pain. Deep within the flames of Chaos, an ancient evil that he foolishly tried to protect from his own citizens. The snowy lands above him now swallowing his home, freezing the walls and the corpses within. His faithful lover, still loyal till the end, protecting him. Suddenly he felt it, a new presence, in his home. Power swirled around this newcomer's soul, within he could see many powerful souls, ones from ancients and others from kings. This Undead was chosen for something, for even he felt a foreign tinge of fear when he watched this Undead slay those who had been either trapped or summoned within Eleum Loyce.

More pain, more burns. The Old Chaos is growing weary, within its burning gut he felt the presence of his faithful, most loyal knights awaking, being engulfed in a similar pain. He could see them, charred black and melted, as they reached out and screamed within the flames. But then as soon as they appeared, they disappeared. He was alone once more. The notion of loneliness was an old companion by now, but it accompanied pride, the pride of halting this chaos. Slowly, he turned his gaze back to this bearer of souls and watched him wander the frozen wasteland outside his home.

This Undead carried the curse of the undead, obviously, but with it determination. He couldn't tell why, the curse of undeath was a horrible idea, so why this Bear of the Curse was not crestfallen with his affliction? He couldn't answer, he could only watch as this Undead slaughtered two of his dear pets, Lud and Zallen. When they fell, the Undead vanished from his home, confusing him. This Undead had been so determined, now he had left? Hold on, the Undead was back. Strange, now this Undead held a familiar sword. A greatsword of his loyal knights, but it shone brightly and reflected the sun, where this Undead had gotten a pristine Loyce Greatsword was a mystery.

The pain was still there, ever burning his mind away. The visions of blackened knights flashed in front of him, reaching out for him before being dragged away, back into the flames. Once, he could remember it quite well, he ordered his knights to strike any malformed creature that dared to emerge from the Old Chaos, he knew that if any still remained they'd follow his orders still. He witnessed a few of his knights even partaking in the art of pyromancy, heresy itself performed right in front of him. But now he couldn't do anything, but feel the burns of his worst failure.

The Undead was traveling through his home, still exploring the snowy landscape that was now Eleum Loyce. He watched as the Bearer of the Curse struck down his soldiers, what used to be his soldiers anyway. The Old Chaos took those from him too, countless years ago. Then something strange happened, nothing had happened like it before, he felt an evil presence. He saw a new Undead, red in colour with sinister intentions, he watched this Undead walk through one of the old streets and stand at the top of some stairs. Then the Undead turned white.

He watched the Bear of the Curse meet this Undead, curiously staring at them. Then the Bearer slashed at the Undead, causing them to sprint away, like an thief getting caught. The Bearer chased him and trapped the Undead in a corner, quickly cutting them down. He was intrigued, this Undead just killed another of his kind, without a reason to. Maybe they knew each other, perhaps even before they were cursed. But alas, his distraction from the flames disappeared once more, leaving him to silently ponder why he even came here.

He came for the Old Chaos, but why bring all his citizens, who all put so much faith into their king? He felt regret now, in the pit of flames under his home, for the pain he caused his entire kingdom. He was a fool to believe he could do this, to stop the Chaos. Then he remembered her, his most faithful companion. Alsanna, his Silent Oracle. How could he forget her? She remained by his side, never speaking, just standing to his side. Nothing matters now, not when he and his faithful knights were touched by the Old Chaos under his home, now all he wants is to be free.

* * *

His eyes burst open, the pain, it was gone! He felt nothing as he saw the portal in front of his face, he could feel the warmth that was surrounding the stone platform. Slowly, he stepped forward, still in disbelief of this doorway to freedom. Then he took another step, then another. He emerged from the massive archway inferno, his eyes scanned over the platform and landed on three figures. Two of his loyal knights, untainted by the flame, and the Bearer of the Curse. He wanted to be happy, but then he realised the truth of why that Undead was here. They were here for his soul. Yes, that's it! That Undead wanted his soul, well they wouldn't get it.

"They wouldn't get it..." The Burnt Ivory King declared in a whisper, his mind too corrupted by the Chaos to stop his actions. The Burnt King sprinted towards the Undead and thrusted his sword, the Undead rolled to the side and one of his knights swung an axe into his gut. The Burnt King growled and slashed the Loyce Knight down, stomping on the fading corpse with no mercy. The Undead pulled a large sword from his back and slammed it against the Burnt King, who stumbled to the side.

The Burnt Ivory King leapt away from the pair and raised his massive greatsword, waving a hand over its surface and casting a blue power over it. He grinned behind his helmet and jumped at the Undead, slashing across his body. The Bearer rolled to the side and struck the Burnt King's faceplate, causing him to jerk away and raise his sword again. He smashed it down and locked blades with the smaller Undead, he leaned close to their helmet and chuckled under his helmet.

"You won't get it!" He hissed and swung his blade again, sending the Undead flying across the stone platform. The Burnt King crouched to leap at the fallen Undead, but a large sword pierced his chest. The Burnt Ivory King gasped and turned around with slow steps, gazing at the white knight that stood behind him. The Burnt King collapsed to his knees and dropped his sword, he reached out to the Loyce Knight then fell forwards.

Finally free.


	5. Slave Knight Gael

The battle was just another bloody death for Gael, the screaming of men and roaring of flames were just white noise now. Gael rolled away from a large greatsword's strike, then smashed his own against the soldier's head. The man spat blood and fell to his side, Gael turned and ducked under another sword and slammed his greatsword down, cutting through the man's armour. Then Gael felt an extreme pain and glanced down, at the spear head that was being bathed in his blood. The battlefield turned quiet, allowing the Slave Knight a moment of peace.

"On your feet, dog!" His master's knight barked. Gael stood up and walked past the man, who sneered at him and turned as another Slave Knight appeared next to the bonfire. Gael knew that his duty wasn't worth the torment, but it gave him a suit of armour and a weapon. He exited the keep and charged across the field, back towards the battle of worthless land. The Slave Knight joined his troop and parried a spear, quickly bashing the soldier across the face with his greatsword. Another death, after slaughtering at least twelve men, by the overwhelming numbers that surrounded him.

"No rest, mutt!" The free knight snapped and pointed at the door, but the Slave Knight already knew where to go, it was his duty to follow battle. Gael leapt with a savage scream and cut down a young boy, his back tearing open and spraying blood. The Slave Knight shook his head and looked around, finding himself in a small village. The battles seemed to merge together, for his next swing landed in a demon. The Slave Knight shoved the horned menace away and charged towards a hulking, goat headed demon who held a massive stone axe. Gael swung twice at the legs of the beast, then felt a sudden crushing weight. Then a peaceful silence, only to be broken a moment after. "Up and at em', Dog!"

* * *

Gael stood with his company, their red mantles and hoods standing out against the steel of the other free knights. The Slave Knights knelt as one to their new lord, a young woman who stared at them with an upturned nose. Their first fight was against a rival family, then the next was against their own master. It was a blur to the Slave Knight, as his armour was reinforced with brass and his red hood stained with blood, when he soon found himself in a forest. Gael stumbled around the undergrowth, not used to the close contact with anything but another foe.

He stumbled upon a burned hut, no doubt by the demons that still roamed these lands. The Slave Knight sighed as he remembered his duty to the Lord of Sunlight, the training of miracles and the battle against demons, or perhaps that was just a random thought. It mattered not, as Gael had found both shelter and a place to clear his old mind. The Slave Knight stood in the middle of the charred house, hands dangling by his sides as he stared up though the missing roof.

"AAARRRGGGHHHHHHHHH!" The Slave Knight howled, screaming his lungs out to release the pain of countless battles. His voice turned horse and his throat burned, but still he screamed. Gael grabbed his head as he screamed, his fingers turning a light red from gripping his bloody hood. Finally he stopped, collapsing to his knees. The Slave Knight breathed and slowly looked up, noticing what looked like a painting. He stood and walked over, gently brushing the surface. Suddenly his hand slipped inside, a white ring appearing around it. The Slave Knight didn't struggle as he was pulled inside, as he remembered the stories of painters who created homes for the Forlorn. Soon he awoke, in a snowy cave. The Slave Knight stumbled outside and looked around, ignoring the dull thud as the blade of his greatsword snapped.

* * *

The Slave Knight sat inside church and smiled, this forlorn place seemed the only place for a smile from him. His only companion was a white haired girl, who found him wandering the snowy land. She was his Lady, someone he willingly served. Gael listened quietly to the girl as she spoke of painting, how she would soon paint a home for the forlorn. The Slave Knight didn't think about it, only thinking about his service to his Lady.

"I... would like to paint a world, with a pigment of the Dark Soul." Her words were hesitant when she asked, but Gael smiled and gave a light chuckle. His beard, grown to a great length during his countless services, shaking. The Slave Knight stood and grabbed his greatsword, then looked at his Lady.

"But first, this world's rot needs to burn. An Unkindled is needed, my Lady. I shall retrieve them, then your pigment." The Slave Knight spoke with humble tones, bowing to his Lady. The girl giggled and waved her uncle off.

"Goodbye, uncle. I will await your arrival." The painter said and the Slave Knight descended down the ladder to her room, then rested his hand on the bonfire that was thrust into the chapel's floor, disappearing.

* * *

He had found it, the Ringed City, home of the Furtive Pigmy Lords. Gael wasted nothing, charging through the city and its ancient defenders. His crossbow, greatsword and miracles tearing through their flash. The Slave Knight finally saw his goal, the throne room. He shoved the doors open, stumbling in as he cloak dragged along the ground. Gael stood at the feet of the thrones and saw the lords, staring down at him.

"The... Blood of the Dark Soul, hand it over." The Slave Knight grunted and held a hand out, the lords shook their heads in slow denial. The Slave Knight growled, his Lady wanted pigment, she would get it. Gael leapt onto the first lord's chair, his mouth wide as he tore into the old pigmy's throat. The lords cried in terror as the corpse fell from his chair, then the Slave Knight turned. His beard splattered with blood and his chest cracked, he roared and leapt at another lord, then another, then another...

It seemed like hours, but was decades before he finally swallowed the last drops of blood, his mission... mission? What mission? Footsteps, more blood. The Slave Knight turned and reached out, his body bloated by the Dark Soul itself. "Hand it over, that thing... your Dark Soul... for my Lady's painting." That was it, his Lady. She ordered him on this quest, he would complete it. With a beastly roar he flung the pigmy corpse at the Ashen One, leaping at them with newfound vigor as he and they fought at the ends of the world. The ash around them clinging to their bodies as they clashed, though only one will survive the Lady would get her pigment.

If only Uncle Gael could see it.


	6. Spinam, Looking Glass Knight

Drangleic Castle, home of King Vendrick. A formidable fortress on top of a great mountain, made of stone and marble for the King's dearest Queen. Within the stone castle roamed many knights and soldiers, from the young and newly knighted to the old veterans that survived the war with the giants. One such knight was one of Vendrick's most loyal lieutenants, Spinam. The man was massive compared to his peers, standing almost on par with Velstadt, and tested the might of any who wished to join the King's Royal Knights.

Such as the young man that he was currently clashing with. The man was dressed in the attire of a Royal Soldier, from Spinam's perspective it looked like the swordsman wanted to be more than a soldier. Spinam swung his thorn-wrapped greatsword across his body and smashed into the soldier's shield, causing the man to grunt loudly and stumble. To the soldier's credit he didn't fall, instead he roared and thrusted his spear at the tall knight. The spearhead slightly pierced Spinam's armour, which was polished to a mirror-like shine, causing the knight to hiss.

"Come on, Val! You got this!" Another soldier yelled from the far doorway, which was crowded with other lowly men. Behind Spinam was another doorway, one that had a few Royal Knights watching in silence as the soldier stabbed again. Spinam twisted his body and raised his sword, forged by himself, and smashed it down against the soldier's shield

"Gah!" The man cried and stumbled back, his shield dented and cracked. Spinam stepped forwards and raised his sword again, swinging it down at the soldier. Only for the man to roll to the side and swing his spear at the knight's back, which bounced off the faced pauldron that shone on Spinam's shoulder. The knight pushed forward with his shoulded and knocked the soldier down, then levelled his greatsword down at the man's head.

"Yield." Spinam spoke, his voice muffled by his cold steel mask. The man looked up and slowly nodded, the greatsword was lifted and a hand replaced it. "You fought well." Spinam said as he helped the man up, the other soldiers clapped from the archway behind the man.

"You as well, Mirror Knight." The soldier said and Spinam chuckled at the nickname, one that popped up soon after an opponent fought him after he had just polished his armour. The man bowed and Spinam returned it, then the soldier returned to his comrades. The group walked back through the passage they once occupied and were followed by the Royal Knights, Spinam returned to the centre of the marble arena and placed the tip of his greatsword in the ground.

Then he spotted someone approaching him, walking confidently through the hallway to his arena. Spinam knew who the man was, for the crown and mighty beard gave away the man's identity.

"Your Highness." Spinam said loudly and knelt when King Vendrick entered under the archway, his sword still standing straight. The King smiled warmly at his trusted lieutenant.

"Rise, Sir Spinam." The King said, his voice calm, the Mirror Knight obeyed immediately. "I have brought a gift for you, for your service to both me and the Royal Order." Spinam's eyebrow rose from behind his metal faceplate as the King brought a massive mirror from behind him, he looked at it then to his King.

"Y-your Highness, this... is a mirror?" Spinam asked hesitantly, King Vendrick frowned but nodded.

"Yes." He said in response, stepping away from the mirror. Spinam walked towards it and examined it, then when he walked around his head shot to his King.

"It's a shield!" He exclaimed, King Vendrick chuckled. The knight wrapped his left hand around the handle and hefted the large mirror off the ground, testing its weight.

"That is one of my personal mirrors, though with some changes for your combat trial." As the King spoke, Spinam felt the shield grow heavy and knelt to ease the weight. Then a cracking sound came from it, causing Spinam to peer over the top of the shield to see what was causing it. The Mirror Knight froze when he saw a dark, glistening figure smash through the mirror. Spinam watched the knight skidded to a stop then rise up, turning to him. The knight knelt to Spinam and lowered his head, King Vendrick hummed in approval. "Very good, it worked." He murmured, Spinam studied the kneeling knight.

"Who... is this, Your Highness?" Spinam asked and the King approached the tall knight.

"This is a squire, for you, just one of many." The King stated and placed a hand on Spinam's shoulder. "They come from another world, summoned through that mirror. I am giving this to you for a good reason, one that will be explained at a later time." King Vendrick explained in a low voice, Spinam merely nodded obediently. The Mirror Squire suddenly dissolved into a dust, then another cracking noise sounded. The Mirror Knight peered over his shield and saw that it's face was reformed, completely repaired from the struggle within. "Sir Spinam, I bid you farewell." The King declared and turned away, walking back down the hall with a brisk pace.

Spinam resumed his post, standing next to his sword, his new greatshield in hand. He awaited more challengers, yet none would come forward to face the Mirror Knight. The King would return only two days later, with his Royal Aegis Velstadt and a platoon of Royal Knights in tow, his face was filled with fear as he gripped Spinam's shoulder.

"Do not any souls past! You must remain here and protect the way to the temple, this is your duty!" King Vendrick spoke with hurried words, his guardian peering back down the hall. Spinam obeyed his King's last orders and pulled his sword from the ground, the first drops of rain splashing on his armour. He didn't watch his King run, nor did he turn when the sounds of the large stone elevator behind him descended, he quietly remained vigilant. His old duties now forgotten, the Mirror Knight readied himself for lethal combat against any who dared follow his King.

* * *

Wartix was nothing but a sellsword, fighting for riches and slitting the throats of ignorant lords. Though now he had a new task, kill the King of Drangleic. He knew that this was an extremely dangerous task, for the tales of Drangleic castle spoke of demons and stone guardians. Wartix didn't fear tales. He strode in and cut down any soldiers, knights or otherwise down. He pulled his swordsword from the stone corpse in the long marble hallway, the sound of rain ever present.

"This is not worth the souls, but screw it." He grunted and reached out towards the fog wall, one of many familiar entrances that usually held a terrible foe. When he stepped into the arena, he expected a dragon or a demon. What he got was a knight.

The knight wore shining armour, it's shoulders and helmet marked with faces, and held a thorny greatsword and massive mirror. Wartix froze as he felt pure hatred flow from the knight, he stared at the slightly pudgy mask of the tall knight with a slightly fearful expression. He never stood a chance against the thunderous fury that was unleashed.

Qil was a cleric, traveling through Drangleic to find her brother. She was told by a strange girl in green that the castle would be where he found him. What she didn't say was that Qil had to kill four lords of the land to even get inside, so with tired arms she threw a long lightning spear at a golden knight. She huffed and stumbled into a long passageway, her eyes locked on the fog gate at the opposite end. Qil noticed the many horse-headed statues and groaned, she sprinted down the passage as the sounds of stone breaking followed.

"Let me through, come on!" Qil shouted and shoved her way through the wall of fog, falling into a large puddle of water. She slowly rose on her arms and coughed, the sounds of rainfall deafening. Then a shadow appeared over her, she quickly looked up and saw a cold steel mask staring down at her. The poor girl only had time to blink before she was cut down with unhinged hatred. The fog spat out another soul only a minute later, a man in yellow garb. His blood hair and blue eyes similar to the former cleric.

"Q-Qil?" He stammered, his blue eyes watering as he stood drenched. The towering knight stepped towards the man, but was ignored by him. Instead the man went to the fallen girl's side, holding a bloodstained hand in his own. The knight watched the man cry, his body heaving with sobs. Then the man turned and stared at him, his eyes red with tears and hate. "You're no knight." He spat, the knight stepped forward with his thorned greatsword raised. At least the siblings were reunited, leaving only a pair of mangled corpses that slowly faded to dust.

* * *

The Mirror Knight saw yet another shadow approaching, just another seeker of his King. He prepared for yet another kill, subconsciously added to the years of slaughter. But when the figure appeared, he knew it wasn't another normal peasant. This was a determined Undead, an Undead chosen for a duty to follow blindly. The Mirror Knight had forgotten many things during his long years of silent killings, speech, memories and emotions. Now he could feel one, though he couldn't place it.

The Bearer of the Curse sprinted forwards and the Mirror Knight leapt at him, only to fly over the top of their head. The Mirror Knight felt a large blade pierce his back, causing him to grunt and spin around with his sword raised. He slashed and missed, catching another hit to the shoulder. The Undead rolled under the next thrust and the Mirror Knight frantically swung again, only to get parried. The knight leapt back and slammed his shield down, calling for his faithful squires.

Then the Undead shattered his mirror with a massive thrust from his greatsword. The Mirror Knight stumbled away from the Bearer of the Curse, his head pounding with an irritating feeling. It clutched at his chest and caused his joints to lock up, the Mirror Knight staggered to a stop and slowly raised his sword high. Lightning struck the blade and the Mirror Knight roared as he swung the blade across his body and sent an arc of lightning at the Undead, he breathed heavily as he watched the Undead roll under the line of lightning. Then the Bearer of the Curse kicked his knees and send the Mirror Knight down, the thorny greatsword finally falling from his cold steel hands.

In his last moments, he thought back to the beginning of this cursed duty, then to his friends. Then, just before he felt an eternal emptiness, he figured out that feeling that hindered him. It was something that should've only struck new soldiers, not veterans like him, but it did. That feeling was fear.

Then it suddenly faded as Spinam burst from his bed, just a horrible dream. Unfortunately it was an endless cycle and he was blissfully unaware, forever trapped in the land of the living.

 **Spinam is Thorn in Latin. I used Mirror Knight for an easier time writing, and it was originally it's name, so yeah my excuse.**


End file.
